Authors: P.T. Deutermann
The Cat Dancers (2 page)
K-DOG IS RANTING. HEY, you know what, dude? We had the fucking thing done. The money was in my pocket, that clerk slapped down on the floor, a whole candy rack pulled over on top of his ass, our piece-a-shit rice-burner parked fifty feet away, pointed out at the street, the security cam bashed off the wall—and, shit, we even had its VCR smashed all to hell and lubricated with some convenient motor oil. That’s why they called it a convenience store, right?
And then here comes this fucking minivan, mama bear and baby bear pulling into absolutely the wrong place at the wrong time. A hundred gas stations in this fucking town, and these civilians pick this one? This bitch looking over as she shuts down the van. I mean, it was fucking obvious she saw our asses as we came through the door. I could almost hear her makin’ her statement, you know? “There were two of them, Officer. One was this sorta tall, skinny, scraggly-haired white boy in a sleeveless T-shirt and jeans. Dude had this huge gun in his hand? The other guy? Oh, he was this dumpy-looking black guy in baggy red sweats, a do-rag on his head, looking totally spaced.”
And that’s when we made our big mistake, man: We stopped. That was it right there. I just fucking know it. Stopped in the doorway when we saw her looking, and that’s when that old Paki dude must have realized there was a problem. Because, like, next thing we know? Here he fucking comes, man, rising up out of that pile of candy and shit with his own damn gun, if you could
believe
that shit, rising up and booming away at us. I mean, there’s shit blowing right off the door racks and busting out the glass of the door right in our faces. Flash, well, Flash, what can I say, man? Flash
does his usual shit, goes right for the floor, yellin’ about motherfuckers this and motherfuckers that. And me? Well, shit, you know, I’m like Mr. Cool when the heavy shit starts to fly. That’s my rep, right? So I do what I have to do—you know what I’m saying? I get
my
ass down behind a newspaper rack, whip that TEC-9 around, and hose
down
that cashier’s stand. That Paki dude’s still shooting, I’ll give him that, man, two hands, like they show on the TV. But dig this: He had his fucking eyes closed, man. Incredible. Then one of my rounds takes the side of his head off, and then, shit, that dude’s all done.
believe
that shit, rising up and booming away at us. I mean, there’s shit blowing right off the door racks and busting out the glass of the door right in our faces. Flash, well, Flash, what can I say, man? Flash
does his usual shit, goes right for the floor, yellin’ about motherfuckers this and motherfuckers that. And me? Well, shit, you know, I’m like Mr. Cool when the heavy shit starts to fly. That’s my rep, right? So I do what I have to do—you know what I’m saying? I get
my
ass down behind a newspaper rack, whip that TEC-9 around, and hose
down
that cashier’s stand. That Paki dude’s still shooting, I’ll give him that, man, two hands, like they show on the TV. But dig this: He had his fucking eyes closed, man. Incredible. Then one of my rounds takes the side of his head off, and then, shit, that dude’s all done.
But that wasn’t the bad part, man. After I drop the geezer—okay?—I get up, but then I trip over Flash, who’s still down there on the floor, got his fucking eyes closed, just like that Paki, and he’s all, like, babbling this black street shit. Anyway, so I trip over his worthless ass and fall right through the busted-out door glass. Lucky I didn’t get cut all to shit. I mean, my damn feet are
all
fucked up. I’m like trying to catch myself, but at the same time I forget to take my finger off that trigger, and that TEC’s stitching up the pump island’s roof, a couple of those big bright lights out there, and then, oh, man, the gas pump right next to that minivan. Soccer mommy was still sitting in the van, staring at me like I was from fucking Mars, man, until that pump island fucking lit up.
all
fucked up. I’m like trying to catch myself, but at the same time I forget to take my finger off that trigger, and that TEC’s stitching up the pump island’s roof, a couple of those big bright lights out there, and then, oh, man, the gas pump right next to that minivan. Soccer mommy was still sitting in the van, staring at me like I was from fucking Mars, man, until that pump island fucking lit up.
You talk about your fucking Fourth of July. That whole mess—the minivan, the gas pump, all that shit—had to have been fifty feet away, but I can still feel that fireball. Flash is up off the floor now and he fucking passes me getting out to the pickup. There is fire fucking
everywhere
now, and then we get another pump going up, and then some hose or some other shit breaks and then there’s, like, these blue
waves
of fire coming across the concrete. Fucking Hell’s Beach, man. I jam that rice-burner into big D and we peel the hell out of there, driving right over those waves of fire. I swear to God I can still feel that heat through the floorboards. That minivan is roasting back in there somewhere, along with the witnesses, so, you know, the whole fire deal wasn’t a total fucking
loss. I was just wishing that wad of cash in my pocket was a whole lot thicker, because both of us knew there was gonna be some serious hell to pay over this shit.
everywhere
now, and then we get another pump going up, and then some hose or some other shit breaks and then there’s, like, these blue
waves
of fire coming across the concrete. Fucking Hell’s Beach, man. I jam that rice-burner into big D and we peel the hell out of there, driving right over those waves of fire. I swear to God I can still feel that heat through the floorboards. That minivan is roasting back in there somewhere, along with the witnesses, so, you know, the whole fire deal wasn’t a total fucking
loss. I was just wishing that wad of cash in my pocket was a whole lot thicker, because both of us knew there was gonna be some serious hell to pay over this shit.
So, anyways, we go screech-assing all the way across the center line before I can get ahold of it. We almost head-on some asshole comin’ the other way, and he leans on his horn while eatin’ up a ton of my gravel. I hammered down to straighten that bitch back out and then got us down the road and gone. Big-ass orange glow taking up the whole rearview mirror, all the way to the first curve. And, oh yeah, there’s my man Flash, the whole fucking time, sitting there with his eyes
still
closed, tears running down his face, those funny little hands of his banging against the dash while he says “Muhfuggah” over and over again. We called him Flash in the joint, but his real name is Deleon. Dee-le-on Butts. ’Tween you an’ me? That brother ain’t playin’ with a full deck, you know what I’m sayin’? Anyway, we’re boogyin’ down the road. I gotta wonder why I hooked up with him in the first place. I mean, yeah, we’d shared a cell up in Rock City for three years, and, you know, since we both came from the Triboro area, it just seemed okay. Right now, though, man, I don’t know if that was such a good move.
still
closed, tears running down his face, those funny little hands of his banging against the dash while he says “Muhfuggah” over and over again. We called him Flash in the joint, but his real name is Deleon. Dee-le-on Butts. ’Tween you an’ me? That brother ain’t playin’ with a full deck, you know what I’m sayin’? Anyway, we’re boogyin’ down the road. I gotta wonder why I hooked up with him in the first place. I mean, yeah, we’d shared a cell up in Rock City for three years, and, you know, since we both came from the Triboro area, it just seemed okay. Right now, though, man, I don’t know if that was such a good move.
So, the next morning, like, late? We’re holed up in this shitty little curry palace on the east side of town, about a half mile from I-40, close enough so’s we can hear the semis. Flash is either dead asleep or passed out on the other bed; it’s always kinda hard to tell with Flash. He’s got this mostly empty quart of bourbon sticking up between his legs like a glass hard-on. I’m only medium high. I’ve got me an elephant head and that camel-crapped-in-my-mouth taste, you know, whiskey, two garlic pizzas, and maybe a half case of beer? I’ve got two, count ’em,
two
—fucking cigarettes, going, and there’s enough smoke in that room to set off the smoke alarm, ’cept it’s hanging by its wires ’cause those Pakis never fix anything, you know what I’m sayin’?
two
—fucking cigarettes, going, and there’s enough smoke in that room to set off the smoke alarm, ’cept it’s hanging by its wires ’cause those Pakis never fix anything, you know what I’m sayin’?
I got the TV news on and there’s some big-hair blonde going off about the minimart holdup. She’s all excited, but they don’t have shit on who the bad guys were. Po-lice “working
several solid leads.” Yeah, right. The gas station and the minimart burned to the ground. Three confirmed DOAs: the clerk, and the two civilians in the van. Little pickup, possibly white, seen “fleeing the scene.” Got that shit right. But, shit, if all they had was a
possibly
white pickup truck, we were good to go, man. Had to be a thousand or so of those around Manceford County, right? So … too fucking bad about the civilians, but, you know, sometimes shit just happens. Bad shit for them, but good shit for us—no wits, right? So that was the good news. The bad news was that we got jack shit in the way of money out of this whole goat fuck, so we were
definitely
gonna have to go hit another one, and, like, pretty fucking soon, man. I was so glad I hadn’t ditched that fucking TEC, man. Hid that puppy outside.
several solid leads.” Yeah, right. The gas station and the minimart burned to the ground. Three confirmed DOAs: the clerk, and the two civilians in the van. Little pickup, possibly white, seen “fleeing the scene.” Got that shit right. But, shit, if all they had was a
possibly
white pickup truck, we were good to go, man. Had to be a thousand or so of those around Manceford County, right? So … too fucking bad about the civilians, but, you know, sometimes shit just happens. Bad shit for them, but good shit for us—no wits, right? So that was the good news. The bad news was that we got jack shit in the way of money out of this whole goat fuck, so we were
definitely
gonna have to go hit another one, and, like, pretty fucking soon, man. I was so glad I hadn’t ditched that fucking TEC, man. Hid that puppy outside.
And then, while I was, like, sitting there, just trying to think, you know? Where we oughta go, what the fuck we should do next—the whole fucking world fell in on us. I’ve got my breakfast beer in the air, man, when the door fucking explodes backward off its hinges and about a million armored cops blast into the room. This
huge
fucking deputy comes right at me and flat-arms my skinny ass right off the bed. Then the rest of the meat, all of ’em these huge dudes with fat red faces, helmets, lookin’ like fucking Star Wars storm troopers, man, they just pile on, twisting my arms behind my back to get those cuffs on, an’ all the time screaming at me to “
get down, get down, get flat,
don’t
fucking
move,” like I could even twitch with all that sweaty meat on me.
huge
fucking deputy comes right at me and flat-arms my skinny ass right off the bed. Then the rest of the meat, all of ’em these huge dudes with fat red faces, helmets, lookin’ like fucking Star Wars storm troopers, man, they just pile on, twisting my arms behind my back to get those cuffs on, an’ all the time screaming at me to “
get down, get down, get flat,
don’t
fucking
move,” like I could even twitch with all that sweaty meat on me.
Then this really big dude gets right down on the floor with me, and he goes, “You the mother
fuckers
torched the gas station last night?”
fuckers
torched the gas station last night?”
By now I’m, like, seein’ red spots in front of my eyes and my arms feel like they’re coming right out of their sockets, and even with all the noise, I can hear Flash cryin’ again. I can’t see shit, Flash is makin’ like a fucking sheep, and there’s ten dudes sitting on me. So anyway, the big cop grabs my chin, and he asks again, “You the
man,
asshole?” I mean, he’s so close his spit’s sprayin’ in my face. My fucking arms are making popping noises now, so I think, Fuck it, they flat
got our asses, right? So I go, “Awright, yeah, we fucking done it, okay? Now let me breathe, motherfucker!”
man,
asshole?” I mean, he’s so close his spit’s sprayin’ in my face. My fucking arms are making popping noises now, so I think, Fuck it, they flat
got our asses, right? So I go, “Awright, yeah, we fucking done it, okay? Now let me breathe, motherfucker!”
Civilians, man. You know this has to be all about those fucking civilians. Night clerk in a minimart? Dude’s gotta know what the game is, what kinda shit can go down. And it’s not like I
meant
to take ’em out or anything. But fuck: You see two dudes coming through the front glass at eleven o’clock at night with a machine gun? You don’t sit there and fucking
watch,
man, you put your ride in fucking reverse and you get the
fuck
out of there, man. Like,
every
body knows that.
Fucking
civilians.
meant
to take ’em out or anything. But fuck: You see two dudes coming through the front glass at eleven o’clock at night with a machine gun? You don’t sit there and fucking
watch,
man, you put your ride in fucking reverse and you get the
fuck
out of there, man. Like,
every
body knows that.
Fucking
civilians.
Say, man, you got any extra smokes?
IT WAS LATE MAY, and the building-management gnomes who decided such things had turned off both the heat and the air-conditioning to save money, so the courtroom was unusually stuffy. Steven Klein, the local district attorney, was droning through the motions hearing on the minimart case, while Lt. Cam Richter and Sgt. Kenny Cox of the Manceford County Sheriff’s Office tried to stay awake in the back of the courtroom. The case was pretty much a slam dunk, what with the confession and the submachine gun, but with Justice Bellamy presiding, one never knew what was going to happen. And sure enough, the judge raised a hand to interrupt Klein. Cam knew that Steven hated that, and it showed immediately on the DA’s face. What came next got everyone’s undivided attention.
“Mr. Klein, I’ve been looking at the arrest reports for these two defendants. I see a problem here. A big problem, actually.”
“Your Honor?” Kelin said, pulling his reading glasses down his large nose. He was in his forties, abundantly fed, and still annoyed that the judge had interrupted him.
“You’ve stated that Mr. Kyle Simmonds, alias K-Dog, confessed to the minimart holdup at the time of his arrest in the motel room. But I notice that his Miranda statement was not executed until the SWAT team had both defendants back at the district station. This was what—forty-five minutes after taking them into custody?”
“They were Mirandized verbally at the scene by the arresting officers, Your Honor. They signed their paper once the deputies got ’em back to the district office.”
“Which arresting officer in particular Mirandized them?”
“Uh,” Klein said, looking sideways and behind him at Detective Will Guthridge. Will had been the supervising detective sent out by the district office when the SWAT team went in to take down the two robbers.
“The deputies who hooked him up, Your Honor,” Guthridge said. “It was a SWAT takedown. Really noisy in there.”
“Which specific arresting officer gave them their Miranda warnings, Detective? As in, a name, please?”
“I’ll have to find that out, Your Honor,” Guthridge said, popping out a flip phone and punching up his phone list. Cam looked sideways at Kenny Cox, his number two on the Major Criminal Apprehension Team. Kenny had his eyes closed and was shaking his head slowly from side to side. Oh shit, oh dear, Cam thought. Guthridge was bent sideways in his seat, talking earnestly, probably to someone in the Special Operations section. Cam leaned his head toward Kenny. “Who was the honcho on SWAT that day?” he asked.
“McMichael,” Kenny muttered. Cam groaned quietly. Then K-Dog took the opportunity to throw some shit in the game. He spoke up from the defendants’ table. “Nobody said shit,” he offered helpfully. “They knocked us on our asses, told us to stay down on the floor about a million times. They was all yellin’ and shit.”
“Ms. Walker,” the judge said to K-Dog’s court-appointed defense attorney. “Please instruct the defendant not to speak until I ask him to speak. Detective, what are your people saying? You understand I’ll want a live arresting officer standing tall, right here, under oath, stating that he gave the appropriate warnings, right?”
Guthridge nodded vigorously at the judge and kept talking. Cam nudged Kenny and asked him if he could call somebody and get this thing right. K-Dog’s motel room confession was all they really had on these assholes, because the fire at the gas station had eliminated both witnesses and any physical evidence. The crooks had also been smart enough to wipe down and then stash the TEC-9 behind an AC unit in the motel parking lot, so even though they could tie the gun to the
crime scene, they could only tie it circumstantially to the two mutts. Even the probable cause to send the SWAT team in the first place had been something of a Slim Jim.
crime scene, they could only tie it circumstantially to the two mutts. Even the probable cause to send the SWAT team in the first place had been something of a Slim Jim.
“They don’t love you at Narco-Vice just now,” Kenny said as he pulled out his own cell phone and hit a button.
Well I know, Cam thought. He saw Guthridge hang up his phone and turn around to look back at him. His expression begged for some cavalry on this one, which was definitely not an encouraging development.
“Detective?” Judge Bellamy was a good-looking woman in her forties, with snapping bright eyes and a notoriously healthy suspicion of cops and all their works.
“Still working on it, Your Honor,” Guthridge said, punching up another number on his phone. Cam realized that too many Manceford County irons had gotten into this particular fire. If no one stood up, they were going to have a real problem.
“Recap, Mr. Klein?” the judge asked. “You had no witnesses to the actual crime, the security-camera system and any potential on-scene physical evidence are toast, and the victims are all dead. Now, let me see. Besides the confession and a weapon found near the motel, you had one witness who stated, in effect, that he had been driven off the road by a small pickup truck
resembling
the defendants’ vehicle at the time of the fire in the gas station, correct?”
resembling
the defendants’ vehicle at the time of the fire in the gas station, correct?”
“Well, yes, Your Honor, but they admitted—”
“You see my problem, Mr. Klein?”
Klein pretended to be confused. “Uh, no, Your Honor, I—”
Guthridge closed up his cell phone again. “Detective?” the judge asked again, looking past Klein. Cam raised his eyebrows hopefully at Kenny, but he was shaking his head as he hung up. “That was Captain Wall at Narco-Vice,” he said quietly. “McMichael is ‘not available.’ And he reminded me that there was a Major Crimes detective on-scene.” He glanced over at the perspiring Guthridge. “He’s guessing nobody in the room actually did Mirandize either one of them.”
Cam grunted. The judge prompted Will Guthridge again,
but all he could do was shake his head. Klein was shuffling papers on the table and trying not to look at Guthridge.
but all he could do was shake his head. Klein was shuffling papers on the table and trying not to look at Guthridge.
“Detective,
you
were at the scene of the arrest. Did you Mirandize these defendants?”
you
were at the scene of the arrest. Did you Mirandize these defendants?”
“I did, Your Honor, but not until the SWAT guys handed them over to me.”
“But it was a SWAT deputy who asked the all-important question, right?”
Will nodded unhappily.
“And you’re telling me you cannot produce an arresting deputy who verbally Mirandized these defendants at the time of the takedown?” the judge asked. “
Before
the alleged confession?”
Before
the alleged confession?”
Cam didn’t like the sound of that “alleged” confession. “Not at the moment, Your Honor,” Will replied, clearing his throat. “But if I can have some time, I can reassemble the team, and—”
“The confession is out,” the judge announced. Bailiffs, half a dozen reporters, the attorneys, and a fairly large crowd of spectators all went silent in a collective wave of shock. The deaths of three people in a gas station robbery had been beyond big news both in Triboro and in Manceford County. Klein burst out with an indignant “
What
?”
What
?”
The judge looked surprised that anyone would be shocked by her decision. “Per the arrest report, they clearly got their Miranda warnings
after
the deputies took them back to the district office, but that same report says the confession was elicited at the scene of the arrest.”
after
the deputies took them back to the district office, but that same report says the confession was elicited at the scene of the arrest.”
Klein raised his hand, as if he were in school. “Your Honor? This is ridiculous. They spontaneously confessed to robbing the store.”
Spontaneously? Cam thought. Nice try, Steven. And, as Cam expected, the judge pounced.
“The Sheriff’s Office report says the deputy asked and the defendant Simmonds responded. That’s not spontaneous, Mr. Klein, especially if he was hanging by his thumbs at the time of the question.”
“These two started that fire,” Steven said, almost shouting. “Both of them. They robbed and shot the store clerk and then trapped two people in the van by shooting into gas pumps. I’m sure they were Mirandized. Every deputy in the county is trained to say those words any time he locks cuffs. It’s SOP. Hook ’em up, you say the words. They’d do it in their sleep.”
“They ain’t never said shit,” K-Dog piped up, sensing a real break here. “They was screamin’ and yellin’, ‘Get down, get down on the floor, assholes,’ stuff like that, but they ain’t never said no warnin’. I know what that shit sounds like.”
The judge glared down at him. “I’ll just bet you do, Mr. Simmonds. But at the moment, your prior experience with being arrested is not the issue here. One more time, Mr. Klein: Can you produce the arresting deputy who warned these individuals
before
the confession was taken?”
before
the confession was taken?”
“I’m sure I can, if I can have a short recess here, Your Honor.”
No way, Cam thought, not with Annie Bellamy, who obviously knew what would happen if there was a recess. The deputies would go back to the station, get someone—anyone—on the SWAT team to do the right thing.
“Mr. Klein, this hearing wasn’t exactly a spur-of-the-moment affair. I’m seeing this in the arrest report
you
gave
me
, right? Do you want to nolle?”
you
gave
me
, right? Do you want to nolle?”
Klein’s face was getting red. “Not yet, Your Honor,” he said. “I mean, I just can’t believe they didn’t warn them.”
K-Dog’s court-appointed defense attorney finally woke up to what was possible here. “Your Honor?” she said. Here it comes, Cam thought. Here it fucking comes.
“Yes, Ms. Walker?” the judge said wearily.
“Motion to dismiss, Your Honor? No confession, no physical evidence tying either defendant to the gun—there’s really no case.”
There was another sudden silence in the courtroom, and then Klein popped up out of his chair. “Your Honor, a motion to dismiss is beyond ridiculous. We know these defendants committed this crime. We know—”
“Here’s what
I
know, Mr. Klein,” the judge said patiently.
“Per your own report, they weren’t Mirandized before that confession. What you say you know is based on a confession that no longer exists.” She prompted him again. “Nolle, Mr. Klein?”
I
know, Mr. Klein,” the judge said patiently.
“Per your own report, they weren’t Mirandized before that confession. What you say you know is based on a confession that no longer exists.” She prompted him again. “Nolle, Mr. Klein?”
Cam wanted to throw a rock at Klein. For God’s sake, Steven, say yes, he thought. Bring it back under another charge. Don’t get all hung up on this Miranda thing. But Klein was a mule sometimes, and today was apparently going to be one of them. He shook his head angrily.
The judge stared down at Klein for a moment, her own anger now evident. “Okay, Mr. Klein,” she said finally. “Try this: I am dismissing all charges, due to lack of evidence. With prejudice, Mr. Klein, because I don’t really think you had quality probable cause to make these arrests in the first place.”
“Good God, Your Honor—” Klein began.
“This isn’t church, Mr. Klein, so God has nothing to do with it. You should have pulled it when I gave you the chance—
twice
.” Bang went the gavel. “Bailiff, this court is adjourned.”
twice
.” Bang went the gavel. “Bailiff, this court is adjourned.”
Cam was stunned. Charges
dismissed
? He was dimly aware that the entire courtroom was buzzing all around him. Toss the confession, okay, but remand until they could go back, dig up some more evidence. These two guys had long sheets and directly relevant priors. They had the submachine gun, and the vehicle, although the CSI people hadn’t done much with either of them because of that confession.
dismissed
? He was dimly aware that the entire courtroom was buzzing all around him. Toss the confession, okay, but remand until they could go back, dig up some more evidence. These two guys had long sheets and directly relevant priors. They had the submachine gun, and the vehicle, although the CSI people hadn’t done much with either of them because of that confession.
But
dismissed
? Kenny looked like he wanted to go up there and rip the judge’s throat out. Will Guthridge was also standing now, shouting something at the judge.
dismissed
? Kenny looked like he wanted to go up there and rip the judge’s throat out. Will Guthridge was also standing now, shouting something at the judge.
The judge, who had stood up to leave, reached for the gavel and started banging it on the bench to drown out the rising protests. Sit down, Will, Cam thought, before you get in any deeper. The two punks were looking at their court-appointed attorneys to see if they had heard it right, too.
“Order!” the judge shouted over the commotion in the courtroom. “Detective, get control of yourself!”
“Goddamn it, Your Honor, I—”
“Shut
up,
Detective. You’re the one who screwed this up, so just sit down and be quiet for a minute.” Guthridge sat down abruptly, his face bright red, much like Klein’s. Still standing, the judge pointed the gavel at Steven like a gun. “Mr. Klein, you have something further?”
up,
Detective. You’re the one who screwed this up, so just sit down and be quiet for a minute.” Guthridge sat down abruptly, his face bright red, much like Klein’s. Still standing, the judge pointed the gavel at Steven like a gun. “Mr. Klein, you have something further?”
Guthridge started to get back up, and Cam winced when the gavel banged down yet again. The young detective slapped his notebook down on the table and subsided. Klein, who had also started to get up, sank back down into his chair.
“Mr. Klein, your principal evidence was tainted and is not admissible. Your probable cause was a Kleenex. Good enough for Judge Barstow, maybe, but not good enough for me. You want to appeal my ruling, you go for it, but in the meantime, I want these defendants released.”
“Your Honor, these are career criminals,” Klein protested. “They are most definitely flight risks. They—”
“They are released. The charges are dismissed. Evidence, Mr. Klein. That’s what we’re all about in here, in case you’ve forgotten.” The judge swept the courtroom with those snapping eyes, as if daring anyone to challenge that principle. She saw Kenny Cox sitting in the back and glared at him. “You should have sent Sergeant Cox there. At least he knows how to rig an arrest report.” She paused for a moment as Kenny met her eyes, then banged the gavel again. “You don’t have any evidence, Mr. Klein. Now, like I said: We’re done here.”
The judge left the courtroom and Cam rubbed the side of his face as he sat there, considering the disaster. He deliberately did not look at Kenny, not after the judge’s last remarks. Almost three years ago, Kenny had been accused of playing fast and loose with an arrest report to cover up a similar error, and the accuser had been Bellamy. The facts regarding the incident had been murky, but Bellamy had forced the sheriff to suspend Kenny for three months without pay, in return for not charging him with evidence tampering and maybe even perjury. It had been nasty in the extreme, and if today’s case hadn’t been so high viz, Kenny would never have shown up today, and certainly not in front of Bellamy. Kenny’s hatred
for Bellamy was palpable, and Cam could just about feel his sergeant’s anger radiating.
for Bellamy was palpable, and Cam could just about feel his sergeant’s anger radiating.
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